


Getting Lucky on St. Patrick’s Day

by RoseDeVents



Series: Holidays with the Wards [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drunk Jemma Simmons, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, No Sex, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 18:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseDeVents/pseuds/RoseDeVents
Summary: Grant and Fitz come back from a mission to find their significant others have gotten drunk without them. Fitz/Hunter is mostly background but also a main topic of the story.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward, Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter
Series: Holidays with the Wards [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156856
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Getting Lucky on St. Patrick’s Day

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit but also not very explicit? I don't know, I just went where this story took me. And I didn't spend that much time on it, so sorry if there are any major mistakes!

It’s been a long day. Especially since Grant’s “day” has been at least 48 hours without sleep. A day that only continued to get worse before it got better.

First he was on surveillance duty with Fitz, then he had to single-handedly infiltrate the secured compound of HYDRA’s new head, some asshole named Gideon Malick. He was shot at, tortured and somebody even stomped on his head.

All he wants to do is go to sleep, but Lincoln warned him he might have a concussion so he has to stay up at least another couple of hours. He makes his way to the Playground’s rec area to get a snack and bumps into Fitz in the hall.

“Hey man,” he says. “Thanks for having my back out there.”

Fitz shrugs. “I didn’t do much. You were the one in the thick of the action. I just watched you kick ass from the van.”

“Well, I needed you watching from the van,” he replies. “I never would have gotten out of there without you. So … thanks.”

Fitz nods like it was nothing but Grant knows it still means something to the engineer to feel appreciated. He wasn’t lying; Fitz’s voice in his ear kept him going in the HYDRA compound and he truly needed his support to make it through. But he’s not going to admit all _that_.

“Headed to the mess?” he asks Fitz, pointing down the hall.

“Yeah, Hunter told me to meet him there.” Fitz gives him a wary look. “We missed the party, but if it’s still going on…”

Grant checks the date on his watch: March 18. _Guess they completely missed St. Patrick’s Day._ Hunter and Daisy were spearheading some sort of celebration; he wasn’t really listening. He knew he’d get called in for something or other. He rarely, if ever, drinks on base for that very reason; there are too many chances for an international incident to pop up when you least expect it.

But if they were celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, and they’re still going strong at 2 a.m. … “Oh no,” Grant groans. “They’re trashed, aren’t they?”

“I’m assuming so, yeah,” Fitz sighs, clapping him on the back. “C’mon, let’s go face the music.”

When they walk through the threshold of the rec room, it looks like a bomb has gone off. _Well, that might be a tad dramatic._ But it _does_ look like a leprechaun threw up all over the place.

“There you are!” a saucy Brit calls out from the opposite end of the room. He hastens his speed as Grant and Fitz start to turn around to walk the other way, suddenly wishing they’d followed their instincts to head straight to their rooms. Lance Hunter yanks Fitz by the hand and into his arms. “You’re finally here.”

Grant raises his eyebrows at the tightness of the embrace Hunter is giving his new boyfriend. His eyes are closed tightly and Grant recognizes the look of relief on his face – he’s seen Jemma wear it more than a few times. Grant hesitantly looks around the room for his fiancée.

“C’mon mate!” Hunter shouts into his ear unexpectedly, wrapping one arm around Fitz and the other around Grant to steer them toward the couches in the back of the room. Grant can smell the alcohol on Hunter’s breath, and leans away to avoid a contact high. Fitz flashes him a commiserating look as they get pulled into a mob of drunken agents.

“You almost missed the whole party,” Hunter says. “We ran out of the green beer already but we have plenty of … what’s that stuff called again?” He points to the giant bottle of bargain whiskey in the middle of the coffee table.

Fitz groans. “That shite is foul, Hunter. I am not touching whiskey made in _Canada_ ,” he says with disdain.

“Beers?” Hunter asks. “I think we have a few Guinnesses left in the fridge.”

“Yeah, fine,” Fitz acquiesces.

“Ward?”

“No, thanks,” Grant murmurs, his eyes finally locking on his fiancée, who is pushing herself off the couch in earnest.

She looks adorable, and he can’t help the way the edges of his mouth turn up in a rare smile. She’s wearing a headband with shamrocks attached to springs so that they bobble around as she moves. Her green T-shirt is low-cut so he can see a bit of cleavage – for once. Still, she looks quite casual in jeans while some of the other female agents decided to use the holiday as an excuse to wear lingerie as clothes like on Halloween.

“Grant!” Jemma shouts enthusiastically, throwing her arms open and skipping toward him. He catches her before she trips over the rug, and she clings to his shoulders even as she bursts out laughing.

“Whoopsie-daisy,” she giggles.

“Did somebody say my name?” he hears Daisy say across the room, but he keeps his eyes on Jemma.

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly, holding her back as if to examine her state. Is she _had-a-few-too-many-on-an-empty-stomach-drunk_ or _Cinco-de-Mayo-drunk?_

“And you’re _pretttttty_!” she swoons, her eyes examining him from head to toe. He sees the moment she realizes he’s been injured and her tone immediately changes. “You’re hurt,” she frets. “Let me take a look at you.” She pushes him down in a chair and goes into Dr. Simmons mode.

“I’m fine,” he says, taking her probing hands into his and interlacing their fingers. “Lincoln already did.”

“That’s great,” she slurs. “Because right now there are two of you and I’m not sure which of you is the right one.” She boops him on the nose and starts giggling again.

“OK,” he says commandingly, standing up and taking her by the hand toward the kitchenette. “Time to hydrate. And maybe have a little snack?” She follows behind him as he walks briskly to the fridge and opens it.

“Oh I love these,” she says, grabbing a fistful of small plastic cups with a green substance inside. “You have to try them, they’re so delicious. I never knew I liked Jell-o this much.”

“Baby, those are Jell-o shots, not food,” he explains, taking them carefully out of her hand like she’s a child. “How many have you had? No wonder you’re plastered.”

“Um, eleventeen, maybe?” she responds. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Or what’s the number between five and ten?”

“Oh boy,” he mumbles. He puts the Jell-o shot cups back on the serving tray and reaches for a pizza box. “How about some cold pizza instead? You love cold pizza!” He opens the lid to entice her to take a slice.

“Grant!” she exclaims in almost the same tone she used when they got engaged. “I _do_ love cold pizza! Thank you.”

She grabs a slice and immediately starts chewing on it happily. He sets the box on the counter and pulls out a couple of slices of his own.

“Yermdabistbeyonce, habIvertolluat?” she asks with a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“What?” he laughs. “Try chewing first.” He takes a bite while she dramatically chews and swallows, as if it’s the best piece of pizza she’s ever eaten or ever will.

“I _said_ , you’re the best fiancé, have I ever told you that?” she smirks at him as she takes another enormous bite.

“Maybe once or twice,” he grins back, inhaling his own pizza. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he had food in his hand.

Fitz joins them at the counter and helps himself to some pizza as well.

“Fitz!” she shouts at him. “Oh Fitz, you’re here!”

“I’m here,” Fitz replies, exchanging another only-sober-guys-at-the-party look with Grant.

“Did you see Hunter?” she asks in a sing-songy, teasing kind of voice.

“Yep.”

“Didyoutellhim?” she slurs, taking another large bite of her pizza.

“Did I what?”

“ _Dibuellem_?!” she demands, mouth full of food.

His eyes widen and his cheeks go pink. “Not now, Simmons,” he tries to shush her.

Grant looks between the two of them, having an entire conversation with just their eyes. Before he can ask what he’s missing, Hunter pops up and grabs some pizza, too.

“Oh _fuck_ that’s good,” he says, having a love affair with his slice.

Grant notices Jemma giving Fitz a prodding look while Fitz shakes his head at her rigorously. She looks between Hunter and Fitz, smiling wide.

“Oh I just _love_ pizza,” she says out of nowhere. “Do you _love_ pizza, Fitz?”

“Jemma …” he says through gritted teeth, “I’d rather not talk about my _love_ _for pizza_ right now.”

 _Oh_ , Grant realizes.

“What else do you _love_ , Fitz?” she asks, staring obviously from Fitz to Hunter while Fitz pleads with not just his eyes but his entire face at this point.

Hunter is too drunk to pick up on anything. “Is there sauce on my face?” he asks, wiping down his cheeks wildly. “Love?” he turns to Fitz to look for him.

“ _Love_ …” Jemma teases after Hunter uses the pet name.

“Um, no,” Fitz replies, trying to distract Hunter. “You’re good.”

“Alright,” Grant steps in. “Time for bed, I think. Good night, guys.” He pulls Jemma by her shoulders to physically walk her away from Hunter and Fitz. He turns his head to see Fitz mouth a “thank you” and he gives him a bro nod.

He can hear Hunter tell Fitz, “well, _she’s_ wasted,” as he walks Jemma out of the rec room and toward their quarters. 

“But I’m not tired,” she whines, her headband bobbing with every step.

“Who said we needed to go to sleep?” he asks playfully.

She smiles up at him and bats her eyelashes. “Well, you were gone for two whole days …” He blushes at her implication; he’s been on a mission lately to get her off once a day – and once for every day he misses with her.

Ever since she accepted his proposal, he’s been ravenous for her – not that he wasn’t before. But seeing the ring on her finger continues to do something to him. Plus she finally moved her last few boxes into his room – _their_ room – on New Year’s Eve and the novelty of sharing their space hasn’t worn off yet.

As he puts his finger onto the biometric lock for their room, he grimaces, remembering Lincoln’s warning. She’ll kill him if she looks at his file later. Might as well be up front about it.

“I have to warn you,” he says, placing his hand on her lower back to guide her inside, “I might have a concussion.”

“What? Grant!” She’s back in doctor mode, sobering herself up.

“Keyword, _might_ ,” he explains. “I feel fine!”

“Oh, but you always say that,” she says, throwing up her hands and looking at him with a hint of disappointment.

He reaches into the mini fridge and grabs them a couple of bottles of water. “Look, the last time I _actually_ had one, my head was killing me and I had that … other problem.”

“Oh,” she smiles, taking the water, “ _that_ problem.”

“Which I’m _really_ not having right now,” he says, putting his free arm on her hip and pulling her closer so she can feel his hardening erection. “As long as you’re more sober.”

She takes a swig of water and looks up at him. “There’s only one of you now.”

“Thank God,” he sighs, leaning down for a kiss. All he thought about all day was staying alive and coming home to her, and though he is still exhausted, he still can’t help but seize the chance to show his fiancée how much he loves her. The passion between them increases and their tongues begin a familiar dance between them that makes him moan into her mouth. After a minute, she starts giggling against his lips until she has to pull away to actually laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling down at her as she falls onto the bed in a fit.

“Oh! It’s really not that funny,” she laughs. “It’s just … something Hunter said. I just remembered.” She laughs out loud again. “But that’s not even why I’m laughing …”

“You’re thinking about Hunter?” he deadpans. He takes a sip of water while he waits for her to calm down and then joins her on the bed, pulling her close. She yelps as he pulls her into his arms and starts kissing her neck. “Go on,” he whispers in her ear.

“ _Oh_ ,” she moans as he bites down on her earlobe. He moves his lips along the erogenous areas of her neck that he’s mapped quite thoroughly over the past two years. “Well it really wasn’t … _oh_.”

“Tell me,” he whispers again, breathing heavily against her ear.

“Um,” she mumbles. “Well … Hunter, he was uh … _oh_ … he was joking around about how … _ah_ … how he and I were going to _get lucky_ tonight.”

Grant pulls his head back abruptly and it’s his turn to say, “ _oh_.”

“Yeah,” she says, licking her lips and paying full attention to his own.

“And Hunter and Fitz's burgeoning sex life is … hysterical for some reason?” he smirks before turning his attention to the other side of her neck.

“ _Oh_ … um … _ah_ … well, it’s just the way he said it … _ah_ … you know Hunter.”

He pulls on the hemline of her shirt and backs off so he can take it off. She goes to remove her headband but he smirks again. “Leave that on.”

“This?” she laughs, almost incredulous.

“Yeah it’s doing something for me,” he chuckles. Once her shirt is off, he unclasps the front of her bra and continues his kissing and licking on her nipples. She leans back on her hands to give him more room and to stick her chest out, moaning and giving herself over to him to pleasure.

He pauses for a few seconds to ask, “so wait, why were you laughing so hard?”

“ _Oh_ … um … Fitz’s face …”

She doesn’t say anything else and he realizes whatever it was probably won’t be that amusing to him, but it starts to nag at him that he still doesn’t understand what got her laughing so hard. He pulls back suddenly. “Wait, what?”

She bites her lip and stares down at him with hungry eyes. “Hmm?”

“You said Fitz’s face made you laugh …”

“Oh,” she smiles. “When I was teasing him. He thought I was going to reveal his little secret, and honestly I probably would have if you hadn’t pulled me out of the kitchen.” She frowns. “Thank you for that.”

He gets up so he can take off his shirt and his pants. There’s no way he has a concussion; his dick is ready to go. He’s had some … issues … in the past after head trauma. Luckily this is not one of those times.

“So, Fitz is in love?” Grant pries. “Finally?”

“Yes, and the look on his face. Well, he doesn’t know what _I know_.” Grant raises an eyebrow as he kicks off his boxer briefs. He starts removing her jeans as she continues. “Oh they’re just so perfect together, and Hunter – well you know he used to drive me up the wall, but now I just find him _so_ funny. Especially around Fitz. And Hunter said he loves Fitz, too! Oh, it’s so adorable, I can’t even stand it.”

Grant climbs on the bed above her and scrunches up his face to make sure he’s understanding correctly. “So they’re in love, and they haven’t told each other. But they both told _you_?”

“Yes, isn’t that _hilarious_?” She pulls him down on top of her and gazes at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“Kind of …” he says, planting soft kisses along her décolletage.

“Well it is once you put it all together …” she sighs. “No one thing was exactly that funny on its own and while I was drunk I couldn’t piece it all together.”

“And you’re already considering yourself ‘not drunk’ when less than 30 minutes ago, you were seeing double?”

She scoffs at him, then uses all of her strength to roll him over onto his back. “Exactly. I’m not drunk and you’re not concussed so …”

“ … it’s time to ‘get lucky’?”

“ _Now_ you understand.”

Jemma leans down to kiss him on the mouth and her headband slides down and smacks him in the face. She starts giggling again and this time, he joins in until they’re laughing hysterically together. She slides off his chest and onto her side so he turns to face her. 

When they’ve calmed down, they just stare into each other’s eyes, letting their hands roam each other’s bodies. “I’m already pretty lucky,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly back. “Me, too.”


End file.
